


look out the window at that storm

by helsinkibaby



Category: FBI (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Het, Only One Bed, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: A snowstorm leaves Jubal stranded.
Relationships: Kristen Chazal/Jubal Valentine
Kudos: 42





	look out the window at that storm

**Author's Note:**

> for the smallfandomsflsh challenge "there was only one bed" on DW

“Let me help you clean these up.” Jubal was still smiling from the latest story from the job he’d just finished telling when he stood up from the table, reaching out to lift some of the empty takeout containers. “C’mon,” he said when Kristen shook her head as she always did, “I ate half the food... more than half... I deserve to do my fair share of the cleanup.” 

Kristen shot him a look that was eerily familiar from the latter days of his marriage. “You also picked up the food and brought it here,” she reminded him. “And refused to let me pay for any of it.” Oh right. He had done that. “To say nothing of you relieving my lonely solitude.” Her lips twitched, an indication that she was only teasing him, but it was another reminder of the reason why she wasn’t on the job right now, another remind - as if he needed it - of how close he’d - they’d, he corrected himself - come to losing her and he didn’t look at her neck and the thick bandage still visible there. 

Much. 

Pushing the thought aside, he lifted some containers in one hand, took his plate in the other and made to move them towards the kitchen. “Never let it be said Mama Valentine didn’t raise a gentleman,” he said mildly and Kristen huffed but didn’t otherwise argue. Probably because she knew it would be pointless - they’d had this discussion more than once, with the same result every time. 

Once the containers were in the trash and their plates and cutlery in the dishwasher, Kristen’s hand hovered over her coffee maker. “Coffee?” she asked and Jubal tilted his head, considering it. Saying yes would prolong the evening, giving him some more precious minutes in her company, moments that he was jealously guarding because while he’d know that he’d missed her presence in the JOC since she’d been working in the field, her injury, the close call, how close he’d come to losing her altogether, had brought his feelings into stark relief. Feelings that he’d done a passable job of ignoring the whole time they’d been working together, but which couldn’t be ignored any more. Not that he’d do anything about it - he was her boss, her friend, to say nothing of the sizeable age difference - but he had taken to calling into her every few days on his way home from work, bearing whatever kind of takeout she’d fancied during afternoon and early evening text messages. 

He’d also taken to ignoring Isobel’s knowing smiles as she’d waved him goodbye each evening. 

And Stuart’s equally knowing smirk whenever Kristen’s name was mentioned. 

Kirsten inclining her head, a tiny frown appearing, served to remind him that he might have been thinking for a little too long. He covered the lapse by looking at his watch, wincing at what he saw there. Sure, coffee would be great, more time with her even greater, but at this hour? He’d never get to sleep. “I’d love to,” he said truthfully. “But it’s late... I should get going.” 

Was it his imagination, some wishful thinking, that had him noticing that her face fell before she covered it up quickly? “Sure,” she said. “Of course.” 

That definitely sounded like disappointment and Jubal was suddenly standing in front of her with no real memory of moving. “Hey, you can think about what takeout I’ll bring the next time,” he suggested and her smile was bright enough to blind him. His hand squeezed her elbow, lingered there for just a second longer than was probably strictly proper before he remembered who they were and where they were and he dropped it, turning to go find where he’d left his coat. 

When he turned back to look at her again, she was at one of the windows, looking down onto the street below. “Uh... Jubal?” Something about her voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “You need to look at this.” 

He crossed the room to stand behind her, his jaw dropping as he looked out. 

When he’d arrived a few hours ago - they’d taken their time over dinner, it seemed - it had been chilly, cold enough that he could see his breath, but the streets had been full of traffic, people coming home from work, going about their lives. Now, however, the street outside was silent, no cars, no people, all courtesy of the tonne of white powder that had fallen, was still falling, from the sky. 

“Wow.” The word was out before he could stop it. “I know they were forecasting a light snowfall... but I wasn’t expecting this.” 

Kristen shook her head. “There must be a foot on the ground,” she murmured and Jubal was not going to disagree with her estimate. Then she twisted her head back to look at him, her eyes dark and worried when they met his and he realised with a start just how close to her he was standing.. “You can’t drive home in this.” 

Jubal opened his mouth to protest but just as quickly shut it again. She was absolutely right - even if he could dig his car out, there was no way it was safe to drive. He ran a hand through his hair, let out a long breath. “Guess I’m crashing on your couch then.” 

Even as he spoke, he knew something wasn’t right. When he saw her bite her lip, look around him towards the couch, he followed her gaze and worked it out. Her couch was a two seater, a generous two seater sure, but when the two of them were sitting side by side on it, there wasn’t a whole lot of space between them. Him lying down on it and trying to sleep? Would be very interesting. 

“Jubal, I can hardly get comfortable on that couch,” she pointed out. “You’re a foot taller than me.” 

He shrugged. “Floor it is then.” He figured he could pull the couch cushions onto the floor, use some of the pillows as extra. It wouldn’t exactly be comfortable either, but it would beat the alternative. 

Except Kristen was shaking her head. “You’ll freeze.” 

Jubal shrugged. “You have a one bedroom apartment, Kris. It’s not like I have a lot of options.” 

She looked up at him for a moment, doubt and confusion playing across her features. Then her jaw set and her expression grew stubborn and that was the face she got in the JOC when she was floating an idea she didn’t think he’d like. “So share with me.” 

The words hung in the air for a long moment, waiting for Jubal to wrap his head around them. When they finally settled, he blinked, cocked his head to one side in the hopes that the movement would make them sit right. Narrowing his eyes, he studied her, looking for any hint of uncertainty. “With you?” he asked, just to be sure. “In your bed?” 

Kristen rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest. He thought she might have more arguments to convince him. Instead she just went with, “Yes.” 

He took another moment, frantically searching for some other solution that would not involve him sharing a bed with a beautiful, intelligent, much younger woman who he should not be thinking such thoughts about. Nothing was forthcoming. 

“I can’t ask you-” he began, and she shook her head, holding up one hand. 

“You’re not, I’m offering. And come on, this is not some 1950s ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ type of situation. You’re not going to ruin my reputation if you stay here.” 

Jubal didn’t think before he replied. “But will you still respect me in the morning?” he quipped and, thank goodness, she took it in the spirit it was intended and laughed. 

“I’m sorry, who said I respect you now?” Her lips curled into an easy smile and he felt himself start to relax. 

He still clapped a hand over his chest, affected a wounded expression. “All right. I’ll stay. Thank you.” He looked out of the window again, noted that the snowfall had lessened a little. “I have a go bag in the trunk of my car. Wash bag, spare shirt, pyjamas...” The fact that he was actually going to do this struck him anew then, made his head spin. He took a step back to try to hide it, jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Why don’t I...”

Kristen was nodding. “Take my key,” she said. “Let yourself back in. I’ll just...” She pointed towards the rear of the apartment, her bedroom door and Jubal wondered how he was going to step foot in there when he could barely look in that direction. 

He made a quick job of getting his go bag from his car and by the time he got back, he was more than happy to take Kristen up on her offer. There was a fine coating of snow across his shoulders and hair, even from such a quick trip, and the memory of his feet, now soaking wet, crunching through snow told him that under no circumstances did he want to try driving before the streets were cleared. “It’s just me,” he called out as he let himself in, resisting the urge to call out “Lucy, I’m home,” with some difficulty. 

She’d probably get the joke but the sentiment was a little too on the money for him. 

She wasn’t in the kitchen or living room as he hung up his coat so he figured she was in the bedroom. He still jumped when he turned around and saw her standing in the doorway, already changed into a long sleeved pyjama top and matching trousers. It was nothing revealing - to be honest, her work attire showed off more of her figure - but the intimacy of the moment shook him for a second. Maybe her too, because she shifted on her fee, her eyes falling on the bag in his hand. She bit her lip, then looked up, her eyes meeting his. 

She looked nervous, he thought. Apprehensive. 

“Look, I can sleep on the floor, it’s fine...” he tried and that stubborn expression settled on her face again. 

“Come to bed, Jubal,” she said, turning her heel and walking away and he was glad of it. Nothing to do with the view, because he kept his gaze on the back of her head, and everything to do with the flush of heat that he could feel creeping across his cheeks at those few simple words. 

He used the bathroom first, came back out in his pyjamas, and she was already in bed when he appeared at her door. “Last chance to back out,” he said, only half joking and she lifted herself up on her elbows, giving him another one of those raised eyebrow looks. It was somewhat negated by the twitch of her lips. 

“First cleaning the table, now this? I know you’re a gentleman.” 

Jubal rubbed a hand over his chin, chuckling softly. “Doesn’t feel that way right now.” 

Kristen rolled her eyes but didn’t speak, instead just lay down again, making herself comfortable. The space beside her loomed large and empty and Jubal knew he should move in that direction but he was frozen momentarily, still, even now, unable to believe that turn the night had taken. “You gonna stand there all night?” 

Her teasing broke through his reverie and he grinned, dropped his bag corner and crossed the room. The bed dipped under his weight as he slipped in and he had to shift a little to get comfortable, shift a little again because he was close enough to Kristen that he could feel the heat of her body and he didn’t want to be too close. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage, make her feel uncomfortable. 

Eventually, he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and Kristen snapped off her bedside lamp. “Good night, Jubal,” she said quietly. 

He turned his head in her direction, barely able to make out the shape of her body in the dark room. “Night, Kris,” he whispered and if he felt the bedcovers shift, almost as if she was shivering, he was sure it must have been just his imagination. 

He’d always been someone who fell asleep quickly and easily and tonight was no exception. What was unusual though was that he woke when it was still dark outside, unable to identify what it was that had woken him at first but with the nagging sense of dread that something, somewhere, was wrong. Usually, that feeling was the precursor to Abigail appearing to ask him to chase monsters from her room. Knowing it couldn’t be that, that Abigail was sleeping peacefully in Westchester, he frowned but the answer wasn’t long in presenting itself. Beside him, Kristen whimpered, her body twisting and turning as if she was trying to outrun something. Jubal frowned, unsure of whether to wake her, but another whimper from her both broke his heart and made up his mind. “Kris,” he whispered, unwilling to startle her, his hand going gently, ever so gently, to her shoulder. 

She didn’t wake - evidently, she was a sound sleeper. However something must have permeated her subconscious because she whimpered again, turned again, ending up so that she was facing him. Not only facing him, but pressing her body against his, her arm across his chest, making a fist in his t-shirt, her face buried in his neck. She inhaled deeply, then let out a shuddering breath and was still. 

It was a long time before he fell back asleep. 

When he next woke, a watery sunlight was creeping through the blinds, bathing the room in a grey glow. There was a warm weight against his chest, Kristen evidently having shifted in her sleep, his chin now resting on top of her head. Somehow, he’d managed to wrap his arms around her, somehow their legs were tangled together and somehow he was going to have to get out of this without waking her. He just had no idea how. 

And, as he tried to think of a way, he felt her breathe in deeply as she began to wake up. 

Then he felt her freeze as she worked out who she was so intimately pressed up against. 

He swept his thumb up and down her shoulder blade a couple of times, a gentle, wordless way of telling her that he was awake too. He felt as well as heard her draw in another deep breath, this time a shuddering one, before she lifted her head just enough so that she could look up at him. Her eyes were huge and dark, almost scared, and he knew her well enough that he could see the embarrassment written all over her face. 

Which didn’t make sense to him. After all, there were two of them in the bed. 

Then again, he wasn’t a much younger woman who’d just woken up in her boss’s arms. 

"So," he heard himself say, his voice quiet and, even to his own ears, rough with sleep, "do you still respect me?" 

The call back to his words the previous evening seemed to break the tension because she laughed, dropping her head back down to his chest. "I think I should be asking you that question," she replied without lifting her head, her fingers tightening in the material of his t-shirt. Only for a minute, then it was like she realised what she was doing and let go in a hurry, smoothing it down with her palm. 

"Waking up with a beautiful woman in my arms is not the worst thing that's ever happened to me," he said, thinking out loud and only realising what he'd said when she froze once again. He looked up to the ceiling, bit his lip. "Even if she does have every right to open a harassment suit against me."

Kristen was quiet, very quiet, for a long moment. Then, slowly, as if she was afraid, her thumb began to move up and down against his t-shirt, following the same rhythm that his own thumb was still using as it moved up and down her shoulder. "I've been called worse," was all she said and even though he knew it was only an expression, the thought of anyone calling her any sort of name made him bristle internally. 

"Yeah? You want me to beat anyone up for you?" 

She chuckled again, low in her throat. "I can take care of myself." 

"I know." And he did know that, he'd always known that, even before she'd gone through her field agent training. "But I like to offer." 

"Noted." She lifted her head then, shifted against him so that she could look up at him. Her eyes were still dark, still huge, but no longer scared. Instead, there was something of the same fierce determination there that had got him - them - into this position in the first place. She stared at him and whatever she saw in his face had her smiling, had her moving again, this time moving herself up his body so that her face was level with his. "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong," she whispered. 

He wanted to shake his head but to do so more than a millimetre would mean that he was looking away from her, which wasn't what he wanted. Instead, he lifted one hand, laid it on her cheek. "You're not reading anything wrong," he said, whispering too. "But, Kris..."

He was about to tell her that there were a lot of ways that this could end very badly, for both of them. But he didn't get the chance because Kristen shook her head, laid one finger over his lips. "No buts," she said and he gave into the temptation - because really, what else could he do? - and moved his lips against her finger, sucking at the skin. Her pupils, already huge, dilated even further and her breath caught and then she was moving again, bringing her lips to his. 

He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about what it would be like to kiss Kristen. He’d also be lying if he ever said he expected it to happen like this, in her bed, her lying mostly on top of him, her hands in his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp. He’d never expected his hands to run down her back, find the inch gap between her shirt and the waistband of her pyjama pants, never expected her skin to be so soft, her body to be so responsive to his touch, arching against him as she gasped into his mouth. He certainly never expected her to shift so that she was straddling him, to rock her hips against his in a way that made them both groan, made him want her to do it, and more, again and again. 

“Kris...” He broke the kiss, moved his hands up her back, resisting the temptation to do so underneath her shirt. 

She made a sound that was half laugh, half groan. “Is this where you say we should slow down?” 

That was the last thing he wanted to do. Even if it was the most sensible. “There’s no going back if we do this,” he reminded her and she gave him one of those looks that she usually gave someone in the JOC when they were being particularly obtuse. 

“You think we can go back even if we don’t?” 

Jubal didn’t take much time to consider it. “Point well made.” Because could he go back to the way things had been now that he knew how her lips felt against his, how her body fit against his perfectly, the sound of his name when it escaped her lips in a gasp? 

He couldn’t. 

And even if he could? He didn’t want to. 

So, when Kristen rocked against him again, deliberate intent in the movement, when she reached down and pulled her shirt over her head in one smooth movement, he didn’t waste any time in responding in kind. Of course, his movement wasn’t anywhere near as graceful as hers but when she smiled, bright as the morning sun, it didn’t look like she minded. 

He lost track of time after that, lost himself in the touch and the taste of her. When he came back to himself, it was with her once again lying in his arms, her head on his chest, his fingers trailing lazy patterns on her back. Her lips were curled up in a smile as she ran a finger along his collarbone. “All those nights you came over for dinner,” she mused. “Look what we were missing.” 

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I am regretting missed opportunities,” he allowed. “But I’m hoping for future ones.” 

Kristen looked up at him, raised one eyebrow and though he’d seen her do that dozens of times over the years, it had a slightly different effect on him here. “Would that be near future?” she asked. “The very near future?”

It took a second for the words to land with him but when they did, he lifted an eyebrow of his own. “I like the way you think,” he said, rolling them so that she was lying on her back, smiling up at him as she looped her arms around his neck. 

“I prefer it when I can’t think,” she countered, unmistakable challenge in her voice. 

He didn’t let her down.


End file.
